Trine
by Levity Lirum
Summary: "It just was. It was metal. It was made to fly. It was a weapon. It was a machine. It was not alive. It was not self-aware. Then she was. Her first thought was: 'WALL'." What would happen if some of the jets in Mission City became very young Seekers. AU
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:

**I own nothing that belongs to someone else. I have no money anyway.**

This was written on a whim and I have decided that it has potential.

* * *

It just was.

It was metal. It was made to fly. It was a weapon. It was a machine. It was not alive. It was not self-aware.

Then she was.

Her first thought was: '_WALL!'_

And so she jerked to the side.

Her Trinemates were not so lucky.

Despite being the closest to the obstruction and thus having less time to manoeuvre, she still somehow twisted up in a manner that was odd.

Vaguely aware that she was somehow in a battle, her sensors screamed at her to _move._

Something big and fast whooshed past where her right wing was but astro-seconds before.

She went up, some programming activating a summons to her Trinemates, both of whom had managed to pull themselves out of the building.

Feeling something odd in the area around her processor, she turned her scanners inward just as she hit cloudcover.

Had she the ability, she would have blinked.

It was...squishy.

It was...alive.

It was...making her wires crawl like you wouldn't believe, tapping as her internals and pulling the stick-like appendage attached to her motor functions like its life depended on it.

No wonder she was having difficulty manoeuvring.

Finding the little bit of programming that would get rid of the parasite, ejecting both parasite and the thing it was strapped to out of her processing area.

Once out, she snapped down her hatch, coming back around to observe the odd thing that was somehow slowing itself with a thin, flat material.

She circled it for a few moments in idle curiosity before her first Trinemate broke through the clouds.

He was the same as her, but her scanners and sensors and the little niggling in the back of her processors said he was male.

He was just closing his hatch from ejecting his own parasite.

She screeched, flinging herself to the side as their third burst through the clouds below her, almost smashing into her.

He appropriately dropped altitude a bit, sending out the appropriate clicks and chirps of apology.

She flared her fins in acknowledgment and drifted a little to allow her calmer Trinemate into formation with herself at point.

"-Do you read, Lobo-three-seven-two-one? Over."

Startled, she clicked a moment in confusion, her programs telling her it was coming from her internal communications systems.

She _had_ internal communications systems?

"Lobo-three-seven-two-one. This is Ground Control. Do you read? Please answer. Over."

Clicking in indecision, she opened her end of the comm. line.

"I am. We are."

She paused, confused that her own voice was so very different to the one coming over the comm. line. It was like their voice was one dimensional and her voice was four dimensional.

She was so confused.

Her calmer Trinemate tapped his wing to hers, giving the impression of worry and comfort.

She abruptly realised she had been letting out a confused whine-keen and shut it off, embarrassed.

"Unidentified aircraft, you have entered a restricted area. Please state your name and registration and leave the vicinity. Do you read? Over."

If she could have frowned, she would have.

She tried again. "I am. We are. We are...Trine?" She tested the word, wondering if it would mean anything to this voice coming over the comm. line.

"Unidentified aircraft, please repeat your name and registration. Over."

More confused than ever, she sent a confused, plaintive whine over the comm. line. "We are. We _are_. We are Trine."

There was a brief period of silence, but when the voice came back online, the Trine was distracted by the sudden appearance of a large shape like their own shooting out of the clouds, continuing straight up into what her programming called the stratosphere from the troposphere where they were.

Instinct made her call out with vocaliser and comm. line.

The _Them-Not-Them _wavered in their trajectory.

A private message hit the Trine's processors and the _Them-Not-Them_ continued on into the mesosphere, then the thermosphere, then the exosphere and then was gone.

She chittered uncertainly before turning and leading her Trine from the area.

"_Hide, little ones. Hide until I return for you. For I am Starscream, Winglord of the Seekers, and I will return for you, my kin."_

_

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Review and I might get the next chapter up faster.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer:**I own nothing that belongs to someone else. I have no money anyway.**

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(22:37 hours, 3rd May, 2008, Nevada)

A large dark form was quietly flying above a large truck hauling a tanker of fuel.

Deathscythe flew, keeping a watchful eye on her low energy readings and systematically shutting down systems to conserve power.

She was the only one of her Trine who had the energy levels to do this, even if it meant killing the human driving the blue and red big rig.

It had been seven lunar cycles since she and her Trine had come online in the middle of the Battle of Mission City.

Now their energy-levels were low and they needed fuel fast.

They had started off with petroleum and oil, quickly finding that, while filling, they burnt through it almost faster than they could consume the liquid.

They had tried gas fuel, which was almost automatically a no-go, before switching to electricity-lines, which, when backed by petroleum, was acceptable for a few solar cycles, but they needed something for a longer term.

So they had reverted to aviation fuel.

Which led to now.

Deathscythe swung lower over the trees, getting ready to knock over the truck when they reached the clearing up ahead.

She would only have one chance at this. She'd done it four times before, but they had waited until they were nearly out before making another attack, in case the military had noticed a pattern.

Her Trinemates, the troublesome, mildly insane Freefall and the calmer, philosophic Stardrifter were waiting with tanks in the mountainside two mountains away, waiting for Deathscythe's all-clear.

The Trine weren't the only mechanicals born that day in Mission City, though they were the ones who naturally needed more fuel.

Deathscythe had picked up the subtle transmission a few solar cycles after their onlining, tracking it to a solitary large black van with Federal Bureau of Investigations on the sides.

That was how the Trine met their first ground-bound 'sibling', Disturbia.

Disturbia was the equivalent of 'ground control' for the nineteen mechanical entities who had answered her signal, ranging from the three F-22s to a Cadallac Escalade, a vending machine, an X-Box game console, four cellphones, a further five cars, a motorcycle, a military hummer and a Robo-Raptor toy.

With the exception of Grimmjow, the Robo-Raptor (of the Very Un-Kiddy-Safe Base Form), the smaller mechanicals stayed with Disturbia, Grimmjow stayed with Private, the military hummer.

It was Disturbia who hacked into the fuel transport schedule for them.

So now Deathscythe was exactly twenty-three seconds from the clearing.

And because she had had to shut down so many systems to conserve energy, she didn't register the transmission from the big rig, nor the subtle blips that would have appeared on her sonar.

Deathscythe swung out and around as the rig entered the clearing, transforming mid-air and surging towards the actual truck, peds coming forward and dealing a two-legged kick to the side of the truck's 'nose', sending the rig off-course and rolling the tanker.

Deathscythe swungs around again and dropped in to land by the white tank to check for leaks, not bothering with the over turned truck, and summoning her Trinemates.

Clicking to herself absently, she ran her hooked digits over the tank in the dark.

She crooned a little in annoyance when she found a few small punctures in the side and quickly filled them with a putty mixture Motorslave the motorcycle had given her for this venture.

She was so focused on the tank that she missed the fact that the truck was sitting, watching her in honest surprise in a very un-truck-like shape, having already scanned her and rebooted his optics several times.

-x-x-x-x-

'_-Autobots,-' _Optimus Prime began, his surprise showing through the comm. line. '-_I believe that we can safely say that it is not Starscream or a Decepticon Seeker.-_

'_-What do you mean, Prime? Is it humans then?-' _The Autobot CMO, Ratchet, inquired.

'_-No, it's a Seeker...-'_ Optimus would have winced if he could have. '-_But I would have remembered if the Decepticons had a Seeker Queen in their Faction.-'_

There was a moment of silence before...

'-_A Seeker _what?-' Sideswipe demanded, almost outraged. '-_I thought only a Queen could breed a Queen. Slipstream was the last. I would know, Sunny killed her himself.-'_

'_-Then what is this?-'_ Prime inquired, now honestly too curious to be offended by being questioned by the prickly frontliner. He sent a brief recording of the apparently very young Queen puttering around the overturned tanker with her ball of putty.

'-_Be careful, Prahm.-'_ Ironhide rumbled over the line. '-_Seekers are ah high-strung breed. She might lash ou' in sur'prise.-'_

'_-Acknowledged. Until I call, keep back. We don't want to startle her. She appears to be quite young.-'_

Optimus flared his signature to get her attention.

She didn't stop her puttering; didn't even pause.

He expelled through his vents in confusion.

That, she snapped 'round to.

-x-x-x-x-

Deathscythe nearly jumped out of her plating when there was a loud rush of air behind her.

It took her a brief moment for her to realise that the large mechanical in front of her was where the truck had been, and was even wearing the trucks colours.

There was an even briefer pause when she realised what that meant.

'_Oops.' _She thought.

She made an apparently popular gesture of embarrassment and abashment by rubbing the back of her head with one servo, her over-sized wings fluttering like a moth's, while she clicked and whirred an apology.

-x-x-x-x-

Optimus stared.

'_-Ratchet?-'_

'_-What is it, Prime? Is she damaged? Do I need to come down there?-'_

'_-Ratchet, she has an adult frame, but is speaking Sparkling-babble.-'_

'_-...I'll be right there.-'_

The young Queen shuffled closer, leaning in and tilting her head in worry, clicking anxiously.

-x-x-x-x-

It wasn't speaking.

Maybe she had hurt it when she had kicked it.

Or maybe it was too young to yet speak properly, like the sunshine-yellow mechanical who had been found in a crater, damaged and with only his base form.

She clicked aloud for a few moments before she came to a decision, ushered on by previously dormant core-programming.

Since this mechanical was obviously very young and without anyone to look after it, she would claim it as hers.

* * *

I'm sorry. I just couldn't help myself with the image of a protective mama-seeker coddling a confused Optimus.

Reviews are used to feed needy Seekers the world over. So please, donate a review today and save a mechanical bird-brain.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:**I own nothing that belongs to someone else. I have no money anyway.**

Any questions about this chapter I haven't answered at the bottom, I will endevour to answer next chapter.

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Deathscythe nodded to herself (which was actually a shoulder roll) and hurried back to the tanker, a quick inspection revealing a bucket.

The bucket found, the femme-Seeker shuffled to the end of the tanker where the tap was. After some careful manoeuvring with the tips of her claws, she turned on the tap. The strong-smelling fuel poured out, causing her processor to fire warnings about low energy/ fuel required.

Pausing in momentary indecision, Deathscythe gave into her hunger and, once the bucket was full, she stuck her head down and sucked some of the fuel from the tap.

A few mouthfuls later, Deathscythe turned off the tap, carefully picked up the bucket and walked over to the 'young' truck mechanical, pushing the bucket towards its mouth.

Its eye-lights got wider when she chattered at it encouragingly.

The truck carefully took the bucket and sipped awkwardly.

Deathscythe hummed, pleased, and scurried back to looking over the tanker just as her Trinemates flew over, dropped the smaller tanks, circled around, and landed.

Stardrifter clicked sceptically when he caught sight of the truck mechanical.

Deathscythe flared her wings proudly and chirped, "Mine."

The truck did a full-body twitch that had Deathscythe scurrying over to it, once again chittering anxiously.

Behind her, Stardrifter and Freefall shared a look.

Then the bright shine of headlights and the rumble of an engine perked up the Seekers' audio sensors.

-x-x-x-x-

The three Seekers were ducking behind the tanker, peering over the rounded object, when Ratchet pulled to a stop on the road above; glowing flame-orange optics and spiky crests rising counterproductively over the vehicle. To humans they would appear quite frightening, like a trio of malevolent gargoyles.

To the lime-coloured Rescue Hummer, they just looked a little ridiculous.

'_-Prime?-'_ He sent in confusion, once he realised he was unable to see his Valiant Leader.

When his Prime responded, it was obvious he was more than a little thrown off and embarrassed.

'_-I've been pulled down behind them. From their reactions, I don't believe I am the first Cybertronian they have met. Through, from the way the femme is acting, I believe she thinks I am younger than she is, which has in turn activated some kind of parental programming.-'_

Ratchet would have grinned if he could have. '-_She adopted you, didn't she?-'_

'_-...Yes.-'_

Ratchet chortled out loud, drawing surprised chitters, clicks and whistles from the three Seekers, confirming the base language known as Sparkling-Babble.

Sparkling-Babble both was and wasn't a very complicated language as the 'words' had very broad meanings based on body language, tone and emphasis.

As a carer of many Sparklings and Younglings, Ratchet got the general idea of what the three jets were saying.

One: They quickly reached the conclusion that he was both a Cybertronian (or whatever they considered themselves to be) and that he was probably a companion to Prime.

Two: They weren't really afraid or wary of him, meaning they had probably been lucky enough to have not met any Decepticons.

And three: They may have had adult bodies, but they had, at best, Youngling processors and infant Sparks, which rendered them Seeklets.

This last bit of information gave Ratchet a moment of hesitation, wondering if they shouldn't just leave the three on their own until the Decepticon Seekers arrived.

It was common knowledge that Seeklets were never allowed out of the Seeker's Tower Nests without at least three full Trines accompanying them. Seekers were naturally kind to young, but they were the most possessive, vicious, unrelenting, overprotective sons-of-glitches to ever move through the universe when it came to their own young.

If and when the Decepticons found out about these Seeklets, nothing and no one would be able to stand between them and the Seekers. Anyone who so much as scratched the enamel on the Seeklet's armour would be off-lined with extreme prejudice.

Prime should have known this.

Seeing the blue optics and blue helm peering carefully over the now silent Seeklets, Ratchet realised that Prime did know this, but had been careless enough that the Seeklet Queen (and there was an even WORSE processor-ache) had already become attached. If he tried to distance himself her, it would cause her distress, which would, in turn, cause the Seekers to declare war, not on the Autobots, but directly on Prime himself.

Ratchet sighed and transformed.

-x-x-x-x-

Deathscythe's first impression of the new mechanical was of _age/experience/skill/obey._

A quick ping to her Trinemates confirmed her own impression with the addition of _protector/adult_ from Stardrifter and _temper_ from Freefall.

Deathscythe considered for a few nanoclicks, before telling her Trinemates to start transferring the fuel and refuel themselves.

Then she opened a discreet comm. line to Disturbia.

Disturbia answered the comm. line with the music of Rihanna's 'Disturbia'. Every one of the mechanicals had a different set music with which they would answer so as to avoid infiltration by outsiders.

Disturbia kept an eye on conspiracy theorists, even when she thought they were a load of gunk. She was paranoid, protective, secretive, obscenely intelligent and probably borderline schizophrenic, but she definitely wasn't _dense._ Technically speaking, the mechanicals _were c_onspiracy theories.

Deathscythe responded with a few seconds of Sum 41's 'Hell Song', which was the song that inferred that something had come up that may or may not be a problem.

A single image of a question mark came back, stark white against a black background.

Deathscythe sent along two minute blocks of audio and visual media and waited.

-'_I hear ya.'- _Deathscythe jerked violently when Disturbia actually spoke across the comm., her chosen 'voice' and inflections strongly mimicking those of the human actress, Mae West. The jet ignored the sudden suspicion on the older mechanical's face in favour of scanning their surroundings again._ –'I've sent your position to Sunny and Daisy. I had them on standby not far from ya, just in case. They should be there in less than a breem.'-_

-_'Thanks, sissy.'- _Deathscythe responded thankfully, her own voice layered, purring and what others would probably identify as sultrily throbbing, despite her young mentality.

She just wasn't built to understand grounders, so she left it to their leader of sorts.

-'_I am also on my way. I will be there within four breems. Until then, shadow.'-_

_-'Buh-bye.'-_ The Seeker purred back.

The jet turned on her heel and puttered over to her truckling, circling to get a better idea of his damaged exterior.

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Since Disturbia has immersed herself in the internet (and is a communications vehicle anyway), she has matured a lot faster than the Seeklets, who are going to be amongst the most immature of the mechanicals because of their flighty, live-in-the-today personalities. Disturbia is, actually, going to be a femme variation of the same model as Soundwave, and, as such, a cassette-carrier.

At the moment, to Disturbia, the other mechanicals are considered her stand-in 'cassettes', making her maternally protective of her.

Ratchet is old. It shows in everything he is. The same with Ironhide.

I just want to also say that, with the exception of a few of the smaller mechanicals, all of them were onlined into adult frames, leaving them with some preset adult coding, like their 'voices'.

Also, I idolise Mae West. I even named my kitten after her. If you don't know who she is, look her up on Youtube or something.

Thanks for reading.

Reviews are used to feed needy Seekers the world over. So please, donate a review today and save a mechanical bird-brain.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer:**I own nothing that belongs to someone else. I have no money anyway.**

* * *

When Sunny and Daisy turned up, the only warning the Trine received was a few seconds of Stephen Lynch's 'My Name Is Satan'.

For everything she was, Deathscythe could honestly say that Daisy was Frickin' Scary.

She was a literally sparkling white Saleen S7 Twin Turbo and had had Motorslaver paint a pattern of small white and gold daisies like they were being kicked up by her wheels on her doors and aft.

Somewhere, a human was probably still mourning the loss of his unspeakably expensive Supercar.

Contrary to her paintjob, her choice of ID Songs was a dead giveaway at her personality. She was honestly a perky, cheerful, social creature, but, unfortunately, these traits came servo-in-servo with being sadistic, aggressive, ruthless, vain and manipulative.

Disturbia and Deathscythe had been very, _very _relieved that she was unfailingly loyal to her siblings, if slightly cruel.

Sunny was a mechanical who had been found by Private about two lunar cycles after their onlining, who had been monitoring the military frequencies and heard of a disturbance in a suburban area that sounded like one of them, stumbling away from a duck pond in the local park, dripping wet and his head plating oddly warped.

Sunny had tried to attack Private when he transformed, but his stabilisers had been knocked loose, resulting in the robot falling on his faceplates. Private had barely gotten them out of there before the police arrived.

Disturbia had been distinctly unamused when Sunny, as the damaged mechanical thought his name was, had shapeshifted into a sunset-red/gold Mercedes Benz SLR McLaren Roadster.

Daisy had been pleased because he was not only very similar to herself in robot mode (wheel-peds, swords and all), but he was also as vain. Disturbia had teamed them together for a variety of reasons, but mostly because none of the other grounders could stand the two for long periods of time.

Sunny and Daisy called themselves the Shocktroopers and protectors of their siblings, but Deathscythe had to stop herself from cackling when she heard Teeter, the Volkswagen Beetle, mutter that they were 'more like glorified thugs'.

Still, they were fast and serious when the situation called for it.

Deathscythe shook herself and vented, not bothering to look for the disgustingly stealthy mechanicals, and tottered over to circle the lime robot, now certain her truckling was fine.

**(space)**

Making sure Sideswipe wasn't paying attention to anything but his brooding anger at the Seekers, Ironhide carefully opened a discrete comm. line to Ratchet and his Prime.

-_'There are two more bots prowlin' in tha trees to yer left. Check tha signatures.'-_

There was a moment of silence as the two scanned and found the same thing Ironhide found; a Femme Sparkling signature and an older, more familiar signature...

Ratchet swore.

-'_What is Sideswipe doing?'-_

_-'S far as I can tell? Broodin'. Hasn't noticed yet.'-_

_-'Get ready to subdue him if necessary.'- _Prime rumbled. –_' He had always been illogical when it comes to being separated from...__**him**_.'-

_-'Understood, Prahm. Ironhide out.'-_

**(space)**

"Well, hello there, little one." The Old, Old One rumbled.

Deathscythe felt her brow-plates shift into a sceptical expression, pointedly stand up taller to loom a full head and a half over the Old, Old One.

A chuckle rumbled his chest. "Indeed. Not really so little, but still very young."

The Seeklet Queen squawked in mock indignation, wings flaring. "Am not!" Her throbbing voice rippled out of her vocaliser in English. "I'm almost eight lunar cycles old!"

He rumble/chuckled again, blue eye-lights glowing brightly.

"Really now? A pretty thing like you that old already? My, my." Deathscythe preened and crooned in approval. "May I know the name of such a pretty young femme?"

Pausing a moment to look up the unfamiliar word, the Seeklet brightened, standing proud.

Behind her, Freefall and Stardrifter shared a look, rolled their eye-lights and continued their labour.

"I am Trineleader Deathscythe. And these are my Trinemates, Stardrifter-"

Stardrifter looked up and nodded, seemingly unconcerned with the situation.

"-and Freefall."

Said Seeker grinned toothily. "Nice tah meetcha."

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I will be ever so happy if you review, though I am surprised that no one commented on the obviously Cybertronian mech referenced at the end of chapter 2.


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